


I Wish I'd Never Spoke...

by Saskwatche



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Creativitwins, I'm Sorry, King Creativity, Other, Pre-Split, i needed to write some hurt, it's angsty, logan and patton are jerks in this one, made while listening to soap by melanie martinez, no one dies, remus is a good boy, roman is a good boy too, the twins deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22215907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saskwatche/pseuds/Saskwatche
Summary: Creativity is neither good nor bad. Not a hero or a villain. He is a beacon of neutrality. Until being impartial is no longer an option... Until being himself is no longer an option... Oh God does it hurt to feel so torn apart...
Kudos: 31





	I Wish I'd Never Spoke...

Creativity.

He was creativity. That he was sure of. He didn’t exactly know what made him such, but he knew that it was who he was, good and bad, terrifying and magnificent. 

A King in all his splendor.

_“Did you ever think of jumping out of a moving car?!”_

That wasn’t him.

Only it was, but the others had said otherwise.

The others had reprimanded him for suggesting such a thing to Thomas. He’d bowed his head down and nodded, apologetic. Obviously that wasn’t him… such ideas, far too terrible… but he’d always been both good and bad, neutral and beautiful in that sense of impartiality. Respected and adored for all that he was. Until…

Until being neutral was no longer an option. 

Until all the others had had to make a choice.

Until the mindscape had been torn apart.

Until he was the last vestige of peace and quiet.

Until… 

_“A zombie apocalypse wouldn’t be so bad… it’d help with overpopulation…”_

Until Morality had said that King had to pick a side… had to choose between gore and beauty, had to choose between being himself or shutting up, had to choose between compliance and defiance…

And in an environment like the mindscape… compliance was better than being cast aside and forgotten. Being good was better than seeing Logic and Morality **disappointed** …

But being good hurt… so goddamn much…

It wasn’t natural. 

He felt conflicted, at war with himself, tearing himself apart.

But this was better. This was for Thomas. So that they could still have some insight to give him.

Casting aside all sense of gore and disgusting was better, making sure that only the good came forth, pleasing, happy, complacent, doing what the heart and mind wanted. 

Anything to keep them tame. Anything to keep them joyous. Anything so that Creativity could flourish.

Even if it killed him…

_“ Have you ever taken a bath with a toaster? It would make the hurt go away!”_

Would it? 

_Maybe._

And everything kept hurting.

But they kept convincing themselves that it was better. Better to be good _-a punch to the guts-_ better to be nice _-the air leaving your lungs-_ better to stay silent _-leaving you gasping for breath-_ than to say those horrible _-choking-_ horrible _-suffocating-_ things… _dead._

A gut wrenching thing really to stay silent when your whole purpose is to inspire… but Morality had spoken.

**Speak no evil.**

**Think no gore.**

**Do no harm.**

_“But his head on a spike would be so delightful...”_

The others had looked at him with horror in their eyes. A thought that shouldn’t have escaped him, but did nonetheless… a moment of absence, of weakness. Enough for him to feel fear.

Fear of being disregarded.

Fear of being cast in the shadows.

Fear of becoming like the _others_.

Fear.

 _Heart pumping, gut wrenching, absolute terror._

Wishing.

Wishing so damn hard that they hadn’t slipped. That they hadn’t just said that out loud…

Apologize!

_What for?_

For what we said!

_Why?_

B- Because!

_Why?!_

Because they’ll cast us aside, destroy us, _kill us!_

_So what? Let them do it. We’ll be better off._

But Thomas won’t…

A splitting headache had cut their conversation short.

A blinding light over powering their senses.

A searing pain cutting through their stomach, _like a hot poker jammed in our flesh ._

A feeling so excruciatingly agonizing that it tore a scream out of their throat.

A wail that soon became two very distinct cries.

No longer King.

No longer good nor bad.

No longer conflicted.

It hurt.

To lose one’s sense of self… one’s sense of unity… for the desires of others…

But they convinced themselves it was better this way.

For them. For Thomas. 

Better to have one Creativity in the light, than none at all, _right?_

At least now they’d listen to them, to him, never _me_ though… Never again.

A tear slipping from its confines, running down a cheek, watching from the shadows as Creativity _-the one and only-_ grew happy.

No longer bad.

No longer torn from the inside.

No longer themselves.

_It hurt, really._

To watch from afar what one can no longer have. To spend eternity being taunted by what a few words ripped away from one’s hand. 

  
  


_“God I wish I’d never spoke…”_

“Now I got to wash my mouth out with soap…”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this is short and sort of choppy. I haven't written anything in a while and honestly getting back to it feels nice. I wrote this while listening to "Soap" by Melanie Martinez, and the ideas that came from it just simply wouldn't leave me alone. I hope you enjoyed this, and I really hope to be writing some more in the future.


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